


Bones

by EverythingCanadian



Series: Promptober [5]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mention of Death, Post-War, Promptober, mention of corpses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 14:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20949995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingCanadian/pseuds/EverythingCanadian
Summary: During a walk in Austria after the war is declared over Nixon stumbles upon something he won't forget.





	Bones

It took Nixon a moment to realize what he was looking at. They were old, yellowing, still had some form of fur and meat on them. They were bones of an elk or deer The antlers fallen from the skull who knows how long ago. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline, under his helmet. He didn’t exactly know what to feel as he looked down at the decay and what looks to be ravishment by predators. 

Nixon heard heavy footsteps coming up next to him, most likely Winters with the semi limping gait of his. The boots hitting the dirt made it so Nixon knew someone was approaching. Winters looked past Nixon’s arm as he came up, eyes now focused on the corpse of the animal. His deep hum of acknowledgment Nixon nodded, mouth slightly open and the begging of a grimace showed on his face as his muscles were on autopilot as he stared down. 

Winters let his arm come around Nixon’s shoulders, slowly guiding him away from the mess of a carcass. “Let’s go back to camp Lew, we don’t need to stay here and see this. Our walk can be over.”

“Even in Austria-” he swallowed thickly, “it’s dead Dick.” Nixon sounded blank, but that also meant he was on the verge of tears that would fall without a sound to accompany them. 

Winters hummed again, it became a soothing sound to Nixon over the past few years. Even as all the other familiar things had become obsolete like their helmets they still clung to other comforts they came to know, and Winters’ hum was one of them. Their helmets, their dog-tags, their need to be synchronized in time, all of it didn’t need to be, but the men couldn’t let go of them. 

As Winters looked back to the bones yellowed with age, blood, and weathering he was glad that it was an animal and not a human. He didn’t know how either of them would’ve reacted to such a scene in what is now a neutral zone, a safe space for them all. 

Bones were something that many of them would never forget. Open to the air, broken, severed. A nightmare to many who saw that kind of damage. 

Nixon wishes he could forget. Winters knows they will never forget. The sight of bones is a stain in their minds. 


End file.
